


reality exceeds expectations

by mieraspeller



Series: AU Fluff 'Verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, College, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mieraspeller/pseuds/mieraspeller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek goes to visit Stiles at school. There is a party, cuddling, and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reality exceeds expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. If you see any mistakes, please let me know!

This is the first time that Derek has come to visit Stiles since the spring semester started. He’s maybe a little nervous. Laura would probably disagree with the _little_ part of that assessment, but Laura is prone to hyperbole. For the past week, she kept trying to give him maps of the campus, like Derek didn’t go to school there. He’d had to pry his bag out of her fingers to keep her from berating all of his clothing choices. It’s not like Stiles doesn’t already know what he wears, so he doesn’t see why it would matter. 

The whole ‘surprise’ aspect, Derek can admit, was more because if his parents tried to give him one more ‘we’re so glad you’re moving on with your life’ talk he might actually have to flee the state in order to hold in his homicidal urges. Really, it didn’t have anything to do with not having seen Stiles for a week, despite Mark’s insinuations that continued even up to when Derek basically ran out the door. But Stiles had pretty much given him an open invitation, plus explicit directions to his dorm room and instructions to come over ‘whenever, seriously, I want you to’ so Derek felt fairly confident in his welcome. Though Stiles probably wouldn’t expect him to come without calling ahead. 

Now that Stiles isn’t around to cuddle his occasional bouts of melancholy into submission, it’s difficult to remember that he wants Derek around. Maybe Laura is right, and he is being ridiculous. But considering this is the first real relationship that Derek has been in, he figures he’s allowed a little insecurity. 

Which was what had him loitering outside the building for ten minutes waiting to follow someone in, instead of having the guy at the lobby desk call for Stiles. He’s already this far, he might as well stick to the surprise story. 

Derek ignores the looks he gets as he goes into the building, making a beeline for the stairs and away from their judging faces. It’s not like he’s that much older than the average college student. 

Stiles’ room is on the far end of the hall and Derek eyes the door out of the stairwell for a long moment, listening for movement in the hall before venturing out. 

“Derek!” 

Derek stops at the end of the hall with what is probably a comically startled look on his face, and it takes him a second to get his expression back under control. He looks up and Stiles is leaning out an open doorway, waving him over. His yell has three doors opening as Derek passes, and the guy in the doorway across the hall from Stiles stares at Derek so long and avidly that Derek has to fight to keep from all out glowering at him. Then the guy reaches over to fist bump Stiles -- for what purpose he isn’t sure. When Derek levels a glare on him, he disappears back in his room with wide eyes and the stench of fear.

It’s strangely satisfying. Stiles is laughing now, though, doubled over against his door. The musty dorm room smell is covering Stiles’ scent and he wrinkles his nose up.

“How did you know I was here?” he asks over Stiles’ laughter. 

“Ha! You aren’t as sneaky as you thought, huh,” Stiles crows, laughing again when Derek rolls his eyes. When he finally goes from laughing to just smiling widely, he grabs Derek’s sleeve and pulls him into the room. Derek decides to let it go for now. As much as he’d told himself on the drive over that he wasn’t going to be clingy and weird, Derek really just wants to stay this close to Stiles for as long as he can. Stiles shoves the door closed with his foot, and Derek turns them around and crowds Stiles against the door. He slides an arm in between Stiles’ back and the towel rack on the door, and Stiles’ grin softens as he leans forward into Derek’s chest. Stiles tugs at the hair on his nape playfully. “And wow, driving three hours for a hug, that’s dedication.”

Derek rolls his eyes again, but he can’t actually deny it, so he just pushes his face into the crook of Stiles neck and sighs. This close he can smell the soda and cheetos Stiles must have eaten earlier and he frowns even as Stiles pats his back consolingly. “It’s okay, I understand that you are unable to resist my charms - hey, ow!” Stiles jumps and lets out a breathless laugh when Derek bites down gently on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” Derek mutters, cringing a little a the neediness in his voice. He can feel Stiles’ breathing speed up, and then his jaw working for a moment before he finally says, “Yeah. Same here.”

Even the cheeto breath can’t make Derek move. Stiles doesn’t seem to want him to anyway -- his arms are wrapped just as tightly around Derek’s shoulders as Derek’s are around Stiles’ waist. They’re both quiet, breathing each other in for longer than Derek has even known Stiles to be still, and it’s Derek that finally ends up breaking the silence. 

“How’d you know?” 

Stiles twitches and tilts his head to smile at Derek. “Apparently Laura told my dad, and Dad called me. I’m done with classes until Monday. And I talked my roommate into staying with Jason for the weekend. So...” Stiles trails off suggestively, then lets out a bark of laughter when Derek hoists Stiles’ legs up around his waist. Stiles is still scrambling to get a better hold on Derek’s shoulders as Derek spins them around and marches over to the bed that smells like Stiles. He drops him carefully. As soon as Stiles’ head hits the pillow, Derek crawls onto the bed and over him, and then Stiles’ hands are in his hair and dragging him down into a kiss. 

For a couple minutes, the kissing is enough to keep Derek’s focus. But it doesn’t take long for the sounds of college students (whining, cursing, and video games, mostly) along with the scent of Stiles’ roommate, alcohol, stale food, and dirty clothes to distract him from Stiles. Even when he’s concentrating on Stiles he can hear the rooms on either side of them and smell that his roommate should really change his sheets. 

Derek knows that he and Stiles probably aren’t the only people doing this right now in the building -- or even on this floor. That’s not the issue. And it’s stupid, definitely, especially since Stiles’ doesn’t get back to Beacon Hills often. Derek’s schedule is the flexible one. He’ll probably - hopefully - be visiting Stiles here a lot. But going from weeks of the privacy of Stiles’ place, where half the time John wasn’t even home, to _this_ is like cold water being thrown over Derek’s libido. 

He can feel Stiles’ hard against his hip, and Derek’s been half hard since he pressed Stiles against the door, so Stiles pulling back to scrutinize him is a surprise. 

“Are you alright?” Stiles asks. Derek considers lying for a second. He’s not _not_ okay, he’s just uncomfortable. He’ll get used to it, probably. Eventually. But he’s gone through a truly staggering amount of therapy sessions, and being a tiny bit afraid of Morrell finding out if he was anything less than honest, keeps him from lying. He shakes his head. 

“Sorry, just. Tired,” he says. Which is true, even if it’s not the whole reason. It’s not like he can tell Stiles’ that he can hear two guys talking about the party they’re going to tonight and making bets on how many keg stands they can do. 

Stiles just nods, which makes Derek feel a little guilty for calling a halt to the proceedings. But he doesn’t seem to have a problem when Derek rolls off of him carefully, pressing close in to keep from falling off the bed. Stiles still has scrunch against the wall in the tiny twin sized bed but he does it without any complaints. He’s squirming still, probably trying to figure out a way to discretely disappear into the bathroom to adjust himself, if past experience is any indicator, so Derek closes his eyes to give him at least the semblance of privacy. 

Instead of taking the out, Stiles pokes Derek in the shoulder. “There is no way you can sleep with that. Dude, I can see your dick through your jeans.” 

“I’m fine,” Derek tells him, not bothering to open his eyes. Maybe he could stand to take of his shoes, but he’s slept in his jeans plenty of times. It’s not the clothes, or his dick, that are stopping him from sleeping, anyway. It’s the fact that there are roughly thirty strangers on the same floor of the building.

“Okay, fine. Well let me out,” Stiles says, pushing Derek’s arms out of the way to clamber over him, wobbling precariously when he stands but catching himself before Derek can reach out to steady him. “‘Cause there’s no way I can sleep like this. I’m going to have a seam imprint on my junk.” 

“Vulgar,” Derek returns, surprising a laugh from Stiles. 

“Ha. You can sleep now, old man, but we have plans tonight.” 

That sounds ominous. “Plans?” Derek asks, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels, even as he rolls his head back to give Stiles a confused look.

“The bad part of trying to surprise me is that I already have plans tonight,” Stiles explains with a shrug as he struggles out of his jeans. “Freaking skinny jeans. I’m never going shopping with Becky again.” 

“I like them,” Derek says just to see the back of Stiles’ neck turn red. Well, and because it’s the truth. Being able to say it, though, he can credit to both Morrell and to a steady diet of Stiles’ affections for the past six weeks. “Though there isn’t a lot of extra room for me,” he adds with a smirk and Stiles lets out a shaky laugh before yanking open his dresser drawer. 

“If I had known you were coming up for a surprise visit, I would have told Sam I was busy, but it’s too late to cancel now.”

“I could stay here,” Derek suggests, though it sounds weak even to him. When Stiles pauses in his search for a pair of semi clean pj pants to raises his eyebrows incredulously at Derek, he doesn’t bother to pretend he hasn’t been watching. 

“Uh, no. One, I do have some manners, two, I have a perfect opportunity to show my friends that you are actually real, and three, I haven’t seen you for a freaking week, okay, so you are going.” 

Derek squints at the ceiling, trying to sort through that mess of a sentence, then to figure out what to rebut first. “Why wouldn’t they think I’m real?” he finally settles on, looking back over. Stiles rolls his eyes and yanks on the sweats after a surreptitious sniff, and comes back over to the bed, crossing his arms pointedly. 

“I showed them a photo and they said that I must have stolen it off the internet.” Derek furrows his eyebrows, and must look as confused as he feels, so Stiles explains in a weirdly gentle tone. “You look like a freaking underwear model, dude. Jason tried to say that the picture of us at Lydia’s party was Photoshopped.”

Derek isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He knows he’s attractive, sure, but Stiles looks like he’s personally offended. By Derek or from what his friend said, he doesn’t know. Another moment of helpless silence passes and Stiles sighs. 

“Shoes off,” he says, and Derek doesn’t argue. Just kicks off his shoes and helps Stiles drag the comforter out from under him. As soon as its free, Stiles climbs back over him into the narrow space of bed between the wall and Derek. 

“Why would we need to Photoshop a picture of us?” Derek asks, once Stiles is settled and the blanket is over them. He really doesn’t understand humans sometimes. Maybe photographic evidence is more important in relationships since they can’t smell the other person on them? He must have said the right thing, though, because Stiles laughs and relaxes against him. Derek rolls onto his side and pulls Stiles back against his chest, thinking back to his harrowing trip to Stiles’ room as he adds, “Besides, you’re not the one everyone stares at like a serial killer when you get on campus.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Stiles shudders in his arms. Derek is concerned for about half a second before he realizes that Stiles is laughing. At Derek. 

“Dude, they don’t think you’re a serial killer,” Stiles says, barely managing to get the words out between body shaking bouts of laughter, “They think you’re stupidly attractive. Which is true.”

Derek grimaces. It could be true. Stiles certainly believes it is, if his tone and heartbeat are right. Which would explain the Photoshop comment. He sighs, then hunches forward so his bristly chin catches on the bare skin revealed by the loose collar of Stiles’ shirt. He dredges up what he can remember from overheard flirtatious conversations and then shakes his head, decides to just go with his gut. 

“I like how you look.” He wants to cringe immediately after saying it. It’s not like Derek really had to _talk_ much with other people he’d slept with, but apparently years of singleness, only sporadically dotted with one time hookups have made his ability to compliment go from stiff to spectacularly awkward. 

Before he can get to far into silently berating himself, Stiles tilts his head so Derek can see the edge of his smile. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. And I’m super glad that you’re not going all Narcissus on me, but that’s not getting you out of the party.” Stiles slings his arm over Derek’s and curls his fingers over Derek’s wrist. It makes Derek feel slightly less like a failure as a boyfriend. 

“Fine,” Derek says, barely a sigh against Stiles neck. Under the blanket that smells of Stiles, and this close to him, Derek can almost block out the rest of the sensory information around him. And he actually is tired. When Stiles speaks again, Derek can hear the grin in his voice. 

“Awesome. You’ll love Sam, she hates people, too.”

“I don’t hate people,” Derek interrupts, trying to sound offended, but he thinks it probably comes out more like amused. Stiles snorts. 

“You kind of do,” Stiles says. “I don’t care, as long as you don’t hate me, or my dad and Scott. But anyways, you two will get along, and Becky and I can have a fight over whose boyfriend is hotter, and Jason will drag Mikey out after he gets plastered and starts trying to make out with doors. It’ll be fun.” It sounds kind of terrible, but Stiles’ voice is fond and Derek knows he’s going to agree. He can’t help but rib him a little, though. 

“The more you try to convince me, the less appealing it sounds.”

“My friends are awesome. I have good taste in people,” Stiles adds pointedly. Derek breathes Stiles in again and doesn’t try to disagree. It’ll just end in yelling, and he’s comfortable. 

Stiles is practically vibrating against him, probably from the sugar that Derek can still smell faintly on him. Which means he has only a few more minutes before he’s left alone in bed. He takes in another deep breath, pressing his nose behind Stiles ear and sliding his hand under Stiles’ shirt. 

“Are you smelling my hair?” Stiles whispers it, sounding far too amused. 

“What hair?” Derek asks, and grins when Stiles wrests away so he can wriggle around to face him. 

“Haha,” Stiles tells him, before pressing in to kiss him. It’s light, and Derek must be getting used to the dorm ‘atmosphere’, because he makes an embarrassingly plaintive noise when Stiles levers himself up and crawls out of bed. 

“Sorry,” Stiles says, “I don’t think I can sleep right now. Go ahead, though.” He drops into his desk chair and gestures vaguely at his computer. “I always have homework to do. I’ll wake you up when we need to go.” 

Derek sighs and adjusts the pillow, unwillingly relaxed by the familiar scent on the sheets and the faint sound of Stiles’ pulse. 

Maybe he’s sniffing a little more obviously than he should, because he’s in that half state between sleep and waking when something sharp bounces off of his shoulder and hits the bed beside him with a soft whumph of air. Derek looks over the edge of the blanket, squinting his eyes open to see a cardboard box of -- tissues. 

“You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?” Stiles asks, and Derek is so glad that Laura is three hours away because she would have a field day with that question. Before he can say anything though, Stiles is saying, “My roommate has a dog at home, and I swear he let it roll on all of his clothes before he came back.”

“I don’t have any allergies,” Derek says firmly, but Stiles face goes slack with horror. 

“You’re not sick are you? Please don’t get me sick, I’m really trying for a 4.0 this semester, getting sick would --” 

“I’m not sick,” Derek cuts him off. He pushes the tissues off to the edge of bed, biting back a smirk when Stiles snatches them up before they hit the ground. He can smell semen faintly on the box, and he gives Stiles a knowing look which has him rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, excuse me for jerking off to my hot boyfriend all alone in my dorm room. I’m nineteen, jeez.” Stiles spins back around and starts clicking furiously at his computer and Derek can hear his teeth grinding. 

“I know the feeling,” Derek tells him impulsively, and grins when Stiles abruptly stops moving. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stiles’ head swivel to look at him, face pink and mouth gone slack before it curls into a smile. Derek closes his eyes and takes one last obnoxiously loud sniff that makes Stiles scoff loudly, before he sinks back into the bed and buries his face against Stiles’ pillow. 

 

“I don’t see them anywhere -- wait here, I’ll go get us drinks,” Stiles says, and pats the wall when Derek raises his eyebrows doubtfully. “You’ll be safe, dude, just glare at anyone who gets too close.” That doesn’t seem likely, since Derek had been groped a couple of times just getting through the front hall of the house, but he settles against the wall and crosses his arms. He’s really wishing he’d just done what he wanted when he woke up and saw Stiles back in his obscenely tight jeans - haul him back into bed and convince him to stay in. Like he knows what Derek’s thinking, Stiles leans up and kisses him. 

“We only have to stay long enough for you to meet everyone, and then if it’s too terrible for your delicate sensibilities, we can go,” he promises quickly, and Derek barely has time to give him a reluctant nod before he’s disappearing back into the crush of students. 

The music is at an ear splitting level, and he’s trying to block it out when a girl steps up to him. 

“Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale.” 

“I’m fine,” he says and crosses his arms in front of himself. She raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, then. Are you here by yourself?” she asks, smiling and flicking her long hair over her shoulder, and Derek has to fight not to roll his eyes at the change of tone. It’s not that its unexpected. Just annoying. 

“Do I look like I’d be here alone?” It’s rude, but he’s only here because Stiles asked him, not to make nice with the locals. Derek glances behind her, hoping to see Stiles coming back, and when he does, nearly sags against the wall with relief even as the girl lets out a sharp laugh.

Stiles is dodging expertly through the sea of tipsy students, all of his considerable focus on Derek and he all but shoves a drink in Derek’s hand before he slides an arm around Derek’s waist. Derek brings the glass to his face to hide his amusement at Stiles’ blatant possessiveness.

“Hey, Sam!” Stiles says, smiling brightly at her. Which means this is probably one of the friends Derek was supposed to be making a good impression on. But Stiles seems more focused on her than on Derek. “Did you guys do the introduction thing already? Or did you just recognize him from my photos?”

The girl -- Sam raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“This is Derek. My boyfriend.” His tone is so unabashedly smug that Derek snorts. Sam lets out a startled laugh, and rolls her eyes at Stiles and Derek can feel Stiles’ shoulder jump in a tiny shrug.

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” Sam says, not even trying to hide the amusement in her tone. “I’m Samantha.”

Derek just nods and leans further into Stiles’ hold. Stiles beams at him before turning back to his friend and leaning in conspiratorially. 

“He prefers computers to humans, too,” Stiles tells her but before Derek can argue, he’s yelling, “Hey! Becky, J, over here!” Two more people break off from the crowd and come over, a tiny girl with a pixie cut, and guy that’s taller than Derek by a couple inches and has shoulders like a linebacker. 

“Whose party is this?” the girl asks, and Derek feels a vague kinship with her as she glares disapprovingly at a frat looking guy trying to stage dive off a table. 

“I don’t know, some guy in my Psych class gave me a flyer,” the guy says then looks at Stiles with one dark eyebrow raised. “And who’s this?”

“This is Derek,” Stiles says. “And that’s Becky, and he’s Jason,” he adds, waving a hand vaguely.

“That’s Derek?” Becky says, surprise coloring her voice. Derek feels Stiles tense beside him, and he drapes his arm over Stiles’ shoulders. “Seriously?”

“I told you he’s real,” Stiles tells them. Becky shoves her way in front of Sam and holds her hand out until Derek gets the hint and shakes it gingerly. He can’t help it -- she looks like he might break if he grips too hard. She’s staring at him like she can read his intentions and he tries to make his face seem non threatening. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jason says, interrupting Becky’s stare down. “I’m Jason.” 

“Hi.” He must have passed some sort of test, because Stiles just rubs his side and grins at his friends. 

“Wait, so is Derek staying in your dorm?” Becky asks. “What about Mikey?”

“Mikey is staying with Jason tonight,” Stiles says. Before Jason can object, Stiles puts on his best pleading face. “Seriously, look at him. He’d be totally traumatized by how gross Mikey is. And look, I’ll buy you guys lunch or something, okay? It’s only one weekend--” 

“Fine,” Jason says with an eye roll. “I want sushi.” 

“Do I look like I’m made of money?” Stiles protests, which makes Derek wonder just how much sushi Jason can eat. Both Stiles and Jason’s faces are set in scarily similar stubborn expressions.

“Fine. Ramen week, here I come,” Stiles finally sighs, but he doesn’t seem too put out. Derek decides he’ll offer to help pay later, before Sam catches his attention. 

“Computer Science major?” she asks, and Stiles gives him a smile and ‘go-ahead’ gesture, so he turns to her and nods. 

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Becky says, looking amused. “I need more alcohol if I’m going to be able to dance with any of these assholes.” She elbows her way through the crowd to the keg, and Jason gives Stiles what Derek thinks is a slightly apologetic look as he follows.

 

 

“Wanna dance?” Stiles asks a while later, during a lull in the conversation, and Derek looks at him. He’s somehow gotten another drink without even moving from Derek’s side, and the other two, Becky and Jason, are dancing. Stiles repeats the question and Derek shakes his head. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, sounding disappointed. “Okay. Do you mind if I go? You two okay here?”

Derek looks out at the crowd of drunken college students grinding on each other, then back at Stiles, loose limbed and flushed from alcohol. He’s never thought of himself as a jealous person, but he thinks that if they go back to Stiles’ room with Stiles smelling of someone else -- or worse, if he sees Stiles dancing like that with someone else -- well. It wouldn’t end well. 

Derek sighs. He really hates dancing.

“I guess I’m going to dance,” he tells Sam, apologetically, because while it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t zone out when he mentions search queries or C++, he’d rather follow Stiles out onto a crowded dance floor. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, even to himself, but she nods with a scarily understanding look on her face. Stiles lets out quiet cheer and Derek thinks he hears his pulse kicks up a notch. He’s not entirely sure, now that it’s gotten so loud and crowded that he can barely pick Stiles’ voice from the crowd. 

“Awesome, you are the best,” Stiles tells him earnestly, before tossing back the rest of his drink and pulling Derek away from the wall. 

It’s been literally years since Derek has been to a club, and he generally only stayed there long enough to pick someone up, and being hemmed in by some many people makes him tense and uncomfortable. But Stiles is obviously having fun and if he’s picking up on Derek’s stiffness he’s kind enough not to mention it. Is in fact going above and beyond not mentioning it and seems to be making it his mission to help Derek relax. Which seems to involve a lot ridiculous dance moves and then kissing. Apparently making out on the dance floor is something that Derek is not too old for. 

He feels other people brushing against them, an elbow knocking into his arm and for a short, terrible moment, hands on his hips. But Stiles glares whoever it is down so fast that they’re gone before Derek can even react. Derek pulls Stiles closer despite the fast music and pushes his face against Stiles’ neck, not wanting him to see the grin splitting his face at the jealousy he can practically smell wafting from Stiles. It’s probably not healthy to like that Stiles is possessive, but Derek is mostly aware of all his issues and he’s not going to complain about one that makes him feel good rather than shitty. 

They dance until Stiles stumbles against him and Derek has to haul him up to keep him on his feet. 

“Come on, let’s say goodbye to your friends,” Derek says into Stiles’ ear and Stiles looks up at him with a strange expression before he nods and follows him back through the other dancers. Without Stiles distracting him, Derek has to breathe shallowly in an attempt to ignore a the alcohol-arousal-sweat scent he’s not particularly fond of. Sam is gone, and in her place Becky is leaning against the wall with Jason pinning her in, and Derek can hear the wet sounds of their mouths even over the music. Stiles lets out a laugh. 

“Dudes,” he says, “We’re heading out.” Jason makes a noise and Becky waves her hand in what Derek guesses is acknowledgement. Stiles seems to take it as such, and he turns back, taking Derek’s hand this time before they head for the exit. It’s enough to help him block out the rest of the ‘atmosphere’. Which makes him seriously wonder how he ever managed to stay somewhere like this even for the twenty minutes or so it took to find someone to hook up with in college.

The music follows them onto the street, but so much quieter that it sounds like ringing in Derek’s ears for a long moment. 

“Should I apologize?” Stiles says when they’re far enough away Derek can barely hear the music. He feels his eyebrows go up in surprise and looks at Stiles questioningly. Stiles is staring down at his hands as he says, “Yeah, I’m just going to apologize. I’m sorry about the whole, like, marking my territory thing? I don’t know why I did that, and it was probably weird.” 

Derek thinks it’s probably a good thing Stiles isn’t looking at his face right now. He bites back a laugh, and puts on the most serious voice he can manage as he says, “It was fine.” Stiles looks up at him suspiciously and Derek cracks a grin. “Really. Please feel free to glare at anyone who puts their hands on my ass.” 

Stiles’ face dissolves into a scowl again at the reminder and Derek has to laugh.

“Okay, okay, so I’ll work on that,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. Derek thinks about telling him not to bother, but Stiles looks pretty determined, so he just shrugs instead. 

“But you had fun?” Stiles persists. He says it like a question, and Derek has to pull him closer by their joined hands and kiss him until he’s doesn’t look uncertain. He’s used to Stiles being the proactive one in their relationship, so the steady stream of chatter on the way back to Stiles’ dorm is a relief. 

The dorm is finally quiet. Probably because it’s eleven on a Friday and mostly empty from what he can hear. When they get back to Stiles’ room, Stiles strips out of his clothes with a sound like relief. There’s a red line on the inside of Stiles’ pale thigh from his jeans that Derek can’t stop staring at. 

“Enjoying the view?” Stiles voice is playful, not even close to drunk, but loose from the alcohol and the dancing. Derek thinks, briefly, about teasing Stiles like he had Derek before they left for the party. And then he thinks about Stiles’ mouth. And his groan of disappointment when they stopped earlier. And how he’s been wanting to get his mouth on Stiles’ cock since before Stiles’ break was over.

“Yes,” he says, and enjoys the startled look on Stiles’ face for a moment before he strips off his own shirt. “You should sit down,” Derek tells him, and Stiles scrambles to do so, falling over his jeans and landing ass first on the bed, breathless. 

“Condom?” Derek remembers to ask, because humans usually want them and they haven’t actually discussed it. Stiles looks confused for a moment, then he bounces back up and yanks open his desk drawer. As he grabs a box of condoms he looks over at Derek questioningly. 

“Is this going to involve your mouth on my dick?” he asks, dropping the box on the bed and bouncing back down onto the bed. Derek takes the two steps over, kicks Stiles’ jeans away and kneels down on the hard linoleum floor. 

“If you want.”

“Yes, yes, definitely,” Stiles says. When Derek looks up at him, his eyes are dark with pupil and his mouth is open again and Derek has to pull him down, suck his red lower lip into his mouth, bite it, before he can let Stiles go. He ducks down to mouth at the red line on the inside of Stiles’ thigh and Stiles lets out a ragged breath. His hands come up to pull at the waistband of his briefs, tugging, and Derek’s leans back to help him wrestle them off, narrowly avoiding a kick. 

“Sorry,” Stiles says, face red as he tears a condom off the strip in the box. “Are you-” and Derek just nods and leans in, hands trailing hotly over Stiles’ thighs as he leaves a trail of soft bites from the crease of his leg to the line of hair starting below his navel. He hears Stiles make a strangled noise then the sound of a condom wrapper ripping. The back of Stiles’ hand brushes his face and Derek pulls back to watch as Stiles deftly rolls the condom on. As soon as Stiles’ hands are out of the way reaches up to rub his thumb over the tip of Stiles’ cock. Stiles makes a bitten off noise above him and Derek grins against his hip. He thought about this, those last few days before Stiles came back from to school and they were spending a really inordinate amount of time making out in Stiles’ room.

“I wanted to do this back home,” Derek tells him and Stiles lets out another groan as his hands fist in the blanket on either side of him. “Especially that time you came in your underwear, just from me biting your neck.”

“That was -- you -- it’s not my fault you’re obsessed with my neck,” Stiles gasps out defensively, and Derek rolls his eyes up to see Stiles’ expression, a mixture of embarrassment and fondness that makes Derek wish he could suck Stiles’ cock and do the aforementioned neck biting at the same time. He worries a mark into the hot skin of Stiles’ abdomen instead, and lets himself feel smug at the whine that Stiles lets out. 

“Derek, that’s really-- fuck....” Stiles trails off when Derek lets up and then licks at the head of his cock, moans loudly as Derek hums and takes him in. Derek loves how honest Stiles’ body is, how he abandons any pretense of being unaffected by Derek. Stiles doesn’t hold anything back. This is the first time he’s gotten his mouth on Stiles, really, and he spends a long time -- longer than Stiles would like, judging by the way he groans and tugs on Derek’s ear and call him a, “Fucking tease, goddammit,” -- figuring out what Stiles likes. 

It’s not that Derek hasn’t blown guys before, but normally when he went home with someone they expected to be fucked, and he obliged them without a lot of extras. With Stiles, he wants to know exactly what gets him off. He doesn’t try and read too much further into it. Distracts himself with drawing as many groans and curses from Stiles as he can, with the heat radiating from Stiles and smell of his skin. 

He tries everything he likes first, then branches out and discovers the noises Stiles makes when Derek holds his hips still, sucks him hard then pulls back and traces his tongue just under the head. Derek wants to open his jeans, feels close just from his mouth and hands on Stiles, but the hand in Derek’s hair tightens as Stiles tries to move. And the noise that Stiles lets out when he finds himself unable to sends a wave of heat through Derek. After that it doesn’t take long, with his hands carefully holding Stiles tight. He takes Stiles in deep and swallows around him to hear that broken noise Stiles lets out again. 

“Derek,” Stiles gasps, free hand flailing then settling on Derek’s shoulder and squeezing tight. It’s doesn’t take more than a second to decide to suck Stiles down as far as he can, hands tightening on Stiles to hold his jerking hips still. Hunching over Derek, Stiles braces a hand on Derek’s shoulders and his fingers flex against muscle as his hips judder upwards, strangely silent while he comes after being so vocal before.

“Holy god,” Stiles says a moment later. He looses his grip on Derek and grins down at him. He looks half way asleep already, and Derek has to steady him when he sways. He takes care of the condom, glad that Stiles’ trashcan is right next to his bed, and stands up to take off his jeans. He sighs in relief when they come off and free his trapped cock. He strokes himself a few times but stops at a low noise from Stiles. When Derek looks down at him, Stiles’ face is flushed again and he reaches out to grab Derek’s side clumsily. His short nails scratch at Derek’s hip.

“You seriously weren’t wearing underwear this whole time,” Stiles says, eyes darting between Derek’s face and his dick. 

“Sorry?” Derek tries. He’s never actually had anyone complain about it before. Stiles makes a choked noise and drags him to the bed, scooting over to make room for Derek to lay down next to him. Derek’s hard from Stiles, and having him laying half on top of Derek isn’t making him any less ready to get off. 

“I want to blow you, but I might fall asleep halfway through,” Stiles leans up to tell his cock apologetically and Derek rolls his eyes. 

“It’s fine, I can just,” he starts, reaching down to take care of himself, but Stiles makes an offended noise and pushes his hand away. He slides his hand under his pillow and comes back with a bottle of lube and Derek has to laugh. Sometimes he forgets that Stiles is still nineteen and perpetually horny. 

“What? Mike isn’t in the room all the time,” Stiles says, grinning at Derek. Then his slick hand is sliding over Derek’s dick, and Stiles is dropping the lube on the floor and sliding his free arm under Derek’s head, drawing him up into a kiss. 

It’s lazy and unhurried and Derek is starting to think he could come like this, with Stiles’ hand stroking him slowly while they exchange open mouthed kisses.

As soon as he thinks it, Stiles pulls away. “How do you feel about morning sex?” he asks. Derek tries not to groan. He’s used to Stiles’ tendency to start conversations that he’s already halfway through in his head, but generally not when they’re in the middle of sex. It takes him a minute to come up with an answer with Stiles still tugging lazily on his cock. He’d never really stayed for sex in the morning before, but with Stiles --

“Yeah. That sounds good,” he says, closing his eyes and leaning up for another kiss. Stiles only obliges him for a minute before he’s pulling back again. Derek groans.

“This is a serious question. It requires due consideration.” Stiles rolls his leg over Derek’s, even though they’re already so close together on the dorm bed that it means half his body ends up draped over Derek’s, and looks at Derek as seriously as his twitching mouth will allow. His hand stills momentarily, like he has to make sure Derek is completely focused on his words. 

“Does it.” Derek can’t help but thrust up into Stiles hand, and Stiles strokes him in a conciliatory fashion before he speaks again.

“Yes,” Stiles insists. He’s not bothering to hide his smile now. “I, for instance, am an actual health hazard when woken up for sex. I once gave someone a black eye with my knee. So, fair warning. Make sure I am fully awake before attempting fellatio.”

“Duly noted,” Derek says. He prefers Stiles awake anyways. He’s discovering that most of what he loves about sex with Stiles are his noises. 

“But you think that you might be a candidate for wake up blowjob?” Stiles prods, tone reminiscent of a game show host or an infomercial. Derek can’t help but poke him in the soft spot under his armpit, and Stiles chokes on a laugh and then glares. “Seriously, I need to know. For reasons.”

“Am I actually going to be sleeping tonight? Or are you trying to go on record for longest delayed orgasm ever?” Derek asks, voice as even as he can manage, and Stiles makes an apologetic noise as his hand speeds up. He holds in a groan, knows he’s close. 

Stiles leans down and kisses him again, wet and soft and twisting his wrist somehow exactly how Derek likes, and Derek is suddenly at the edge, nearly slamming his head into Stiles as he comes, jaw clenching to hold in a groan. It takes him a moment to get his breath back. When he does, he looks up to see Stiles grinning unabashedly at him. 

As soon as he can string a sentence together, Derek says, a little breathlessly “Please feel free to commit depraved acts upon my sleeping person. I can take it. Without injury to either party.” 

Despite their near injury contradicting every word, Stiles nods seriously. His eyes are already half closed, and he flumps back onto the bed and pulls at Derek’s arm until he takes the hint and rolls over on top of Stiles. “Go to sleep. And I will totally blow you in the morning.”

“If you insist.”

The pinch isn’t unexpected, but Derek doesn’t bother to avoid it. Just takes advantage of Stiles’ lack of attention to bite the curve of his jaw lightly. Stiles lets out a breathless laugh.

“Obsessed,” he says again, warm and happy. He slides a hand over Derek’s arm, then curves it around the back of Derek’s skull, curling his fingers into his hair. He’s asleep a few moments later, and Derek stays there a few moments longer before the feeling of his come squishing in between them drives him into action. 

He doesn’t mind being sweaty and stuck together, but he draws the line at having his own come dried to his pubic hair in the morning. Stiles pointed out the bathroom down the hall earlier and Derek rolls out of bed to the symphony of Stiles’ breathing and light snores, and the occasional murmur. He feels pleasantly loose, and he grins when he sees his red lips and blown pupils that rapidly contract under the bright bathroom light. Feeling almost giddy with orgasm is new for him and not something that he remembers ever experiencing. Mostly before, he felt rushed. Temporary relief before he cleaned himself off and left another stranger’s bed. Or before that, furtive and halfway between terror and pleasure, swimming in guilt, like with Kate.

He pisses, cleans off the come that’s already drying onto his stomach before he goes back to Stiles’ room with a couple of wet paper towels. Stiles is sprawled over the bed on his back, limbs everywhere, but it only takes a nudge to his shoulder and his eyes open a sliver. Stiles smiles at Derek and goes over easily, letting Derek clean him off and rearrange him into a light hold -- on their sides, Derek’s arm draped loosely over Stiles’ waist, and Stiles tucked snugly into the curve of Derek’s body. The only real way they can both fit on the tiny bed.

“Today was good,” Stiles says, voice a little slurred from exhaustion. Derek breathes him in. Presses his forehead to the back of Stiles’ neck and nods.

“Yeah.”

“And you had fun,” Stiles says, like a confirmation. Derek rolls his eyes even though Stiles can’t see it. He could be sarcastic and tell Stiles that the mess he just cleaned up was evidence of just how much ‘fun’ he had, but Stiles’ voice is earnest. Even though Derek drove up without warning and messed up his plans. He feels a warmth that has nothing to do with Stiles pulled close to his chest and swallows thickly. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m still giving you that blowjob in the morning,” Stiles adds, like Derek is going to refuse.

“Okay,” he says, because Stiles seems to be waiting for something. As soon as Derek speaks, Stiles goes limp in his arms and his breathing evens out, like he was just waiting for Derek’s permission to sleep. Derek leans up a bit to look down at the side of Stiles’ face. He really is asleep. A laugh catches behind his teeth, makes him grin widely before he settles down and again and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting anything more graphic than kissing /o\
> 
> The next part is where Stiles finds out about werewolves, and currently about 40k. So if anyone wants to look over that for me, that would be awesome.


End file.
